He'd twice led a regiment against Napoleon, had
financed the resistance for years, and had worked tirelessly as an agent of the
Allies. All of that and handsome as sin. She drained her glass and
sighed.
“What are you huffing about over
there, Dimples?” Ty demanded.
It was bad enough when he called
her that in private. In company, it was just outrageous. She glared, but it was
lost on Ty who was busy studying his hand.
“Why do I get the feeling,” she
drawled, hearing the brandy in her words, “that I'm going to have to wear
something ridiculous?”
* * *
Ty folded arms behind his head,
settling deeper into the pillows. His eyelids had been drooping when he'd
crawled between the sheets, but for at least an hour now he'd been wide awake.
Why? Philipe's beds, like everything else on the estate, were the height of
comfort. Mind at ease, body exhausted by a thorough afternoon ride, Ty
struggled to grasp why sleep eluded him. Turning his gaze to the window, he
stared out at the moon's blue glow just rising out of sight.
Knock. Knock knock.
The pattern was unmistakable, one
they had agreed on months ago. After a breath, the knob rattled and his door
brushed open.
“Tyler, are you awake?” Olivia
whispered into the darkness.
Heart thrumming, he slid up the
pillows, pulling the quilt over his bare chest. “I am.”
His words set her in motion,
sweeping into the room and around the foot of his bed. She flipped back the
quilt and bounced in before his mind could thaw enough to question what she was
doing.
He held his breath, wondering why
she’d come and hoping he was right.
Olivia leaned back against the
headboard, mirroring his posture, and exhaled.
Silence.
He stared at her, waiting.
She leaned her head, eyes closed.
Still nothing.
They were not at the safe house or
the hotel. She couldn't really be tucking in for the night. “Olivia, what are
you doing?” he finally whispered, body as strung up as his nerves.
Her eyes snapped open. “I couldn't
sleep, not a wink!”
He didn't admit to having the same
struggle. His being awake was not related to sleeping without her for
the first time in weeks. “We've had our arses handed to us with this
assignment. Bound to cost us some long nights.”
Sighing, she slouched farther down
against the pillows and closed her eyes again, entrenching. He guessed she wasn't
getting back up any time soon. “Things are certainly more tangled than when we
began,” she agreed. “Discredit Fouche; that was all.”
Their mission had been
straightforward. Of course, no plan survived first contact with the enemy.
Bringing down a man such as Joseph Fouche or even tarnishing his reputation
couldn't have been simple. In short order, they'd found themselves down a
rabbit hole and moving deeper.
“Circus,” he muttered, unthinking.
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever been to the circus?”
He settled deeper into his pillow, getting comfortable beside her. “My mother
used to dress us like common children and our governess would take us to see
the entertainments. There was a man who could manage eight colored balls in the
air. Looked like the simplest thing.”
“We should find him. He could give
us lessons just now.” Her legs slid restlessly under the blankets and she
sighed. “What bothers me most is that anyone would suggest 'if', that anyone
would trust him again. If Fouche is working against the king. Does he draw
breath?” She nodded. “Then he is working against the king.”
Ty believed to his soul that she
was right. “Look on the bright side, Dimples. Diplomats have to smile at one
another. Use nice words, good manners. No insults, no implications.” He tapped
knuckles against the warm skin of her hand. “We have the freedom to say and do
as we please. You and I know Joseph Fouche is a bastard of the lowest stripe.
We're going to prove it, too.”
A hand bumped him in reply. “This
is why I keep you around,” she
financed the resistance for years, and had worked tirelessly as an agent of the
Allies. All of that and handsome as sin. She drained her glass and
sighed.
“What are you huffing about over
there, Dimples?” Ty demanded.
It was bad enough when he called
her that in private. In company, it was just outrageous. She glared, but it was
lost on Ty who was busy studying his hand.
“Why do I get the feeling,” she
drawled, hearing the brandy in her words, “that I'm going to have to wear
something ridiculous?”
* * *
Ty folded arms behind his head,
settling deeper into the pillows. His eyelids had been drooping when he'd
crawled between the sheets, but for at least an hour now he'd been wide awake.
Why? Philipe's beds, like everything else on the estate, were the height of
comfort. Mind at ease, body exhausted by a thorough afternoon ride, Ty
struggled to grasp why sleep eluded him. Turning his gaze to the window, he
stared out at the moon's blue glow just rising out of sight.
Knock. Knock knock.
The pattern was unmistakable, one
they had agreed on months ago. After a breath, the knob rattled and his door
brushed open.
“Tyler, are you awake?” Olivia
whispered into the darkness.
Heart thrumming, he slid up the
pillows, pulling the quilt over his bare chest. “I am.”
His words set her in motion,
sweeping into the room and around the foot of his bed. She flipped back the
quilt and bounced in before his mind could thaw enough to question what she was
doing.
He held his breath, wondering why
she’d come and hoping he was right.
Olivia leaned back against the
headboard, mirroring his posture, and exhaled.
Silence.
He stared at her, waiting.
She leaned her head, eyes closed.
Still nothing.
They were not at the safe house or
the hotel. She couldn't really be tucking in for the night. “Olivia, what are
you doing?” he finally whispered, body as strung up as his nerves.
Her eyes snapped open. “I couldn't
sleep, not a wink!”
He didn't admit to having the same
struggle. His being awake was not related to sleeping without her for
the first time in weeks. “We've had our arses handed to us with this
assignment. Bound to cost us some long nights.”
Sighing, she slouched farther down
against the pillows and closed her eyes again, entrenching. He guessed she wasn't
getting back up any time soon. “Things are certainly more tangled than when we
began,” she agreed. “Discredit Fouche; that was all.”
Their mission had been
straightforward. Of course, no plan survived first contact with the enemy.
Bringing down a man such as Joseph Fouche or even tarnishing his reputation
couldn't have been simple. In short order, they'd found themselves down a
rabbit hole and moving deeper.
“Circus,” he muttered, unthinking.
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever been to the circus?”
He settled deeper into his pillow, getting comfortable beside her. “My mother
used to dress us like common children and our governess would take us to see
the entertainments. There was a man who could manage eight colored balls in the
air. Looked like the simplest thing.”
“We should find him. He could give
us lessons just now.” Her legs slid restlessly under the blankets and she
sighed. “What bothers me most is that anyone would suggest 'if', that anyone
would trust him again. If Fouche is working against the king. Does he draw
breath?” She nodded. “Then he is working against the king.”
Ty believed to his soul that she
was right. “Look on the bright side, Dimples. Diplomats have to smile at one
another. Use nice words, good manners. No insults, no implications.” He tapped
knuckles against the warm skin of her hand. “We have the freedom to say and do
as we please. You and I know Joseph Fouche is a bastard of the lowest stripe.
We're going to prove it, too.”
A hand bumped him in reply. “This
is why I keep you around,” she
Similar Books
